


Punch 2 (Moving)

by Niler



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-08 05:20:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8831989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niler/pseuds/Niler
Summary: Domestic Bliss?Part Two in the Punch Series





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some may think this ought to be part 3, but the follow up was labelled (er by me) Punch 1.5 so this is Punch 2.
> 
> So some of you have read the series so far and I guess some of you have not. Let me know if you want me to post part 1 and 1.5 somewhere.
> 
> For those who wish to read the first two parts: https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B_AfAiKxy3u3VGZCdnliZzNONm8/view?usp=sharing  
> https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B_AfAiKxy3u3NTVlbkFrNUVBZ2c/view?usp=sharing

 

 

Zayn’s never really been coupled before, doesn’t really know what it’s like to wake to the scent of another guy’s cologne in your nostrils, the tickle of his hair against your skin.

He’d never even considered that the press of a warm foot against yours could make your heart stutter, stop.

But he thinks about it every day now; thinks about how it might feel to no longer have it.

He’s a pessimist (doesn’t need anyone to tell him that) but has no intention of changing, since his pessimism serves as protection for what appears to be a pretty fragile heart. Ironic, really, since he’d actually prided himself on that _not_ being the case.

Meeting Liam set that on its head right from the outset.

He doesn’t even question his uncharacteristic behaviour.

He’d pursued him - hard - and that was so not him; they chased him, not the other way round. And it wasn’t even because he saw himself as God’s gift; he’d just never been motivated to get off his arse and make the effort.

Soon as Liam appeared at the door it was _immediately_ different.

 _Not_ landing him hadn’t even been an option; he’d have done whatever it took.

So it does make a kind of sense that having landed him his head would immediately start considering ways he might lose him…

  
**

  
“I’d love to say ‘no, you’re alright, have a lie-in’ but the truth is I’m pissed off that all you have to do all day is fire up the laptop, crack open Wiki then pat yourself on the back for being a student!”

Grinning, Zayn snuggles into the duvet, stretching into the still warm space Liam’s left for him. “Change the record, mate. You try swapping with me for a day. Bet you’d change your tune soon enough.”

“What, you stick your head in someone’s oven and me go and sit in front of the telly all day? Okay you’re on!” He’s holding out his hand as if to seal the deal; topless, unbuttoned, barefoot, hair all over the place and Zayn has to stop himself begging him to have a heart. He already knows it will do him no good to ever let Liam know just how much power he has over him, so he’ll never tell him to stop looking like that, to never try to win any argument with Zayn whilst looking like that.

He’s in love, not daft.

“Oh behave.” He does consider taking the proffered hand but is well aware that the bad angel sitting in his left shoulder is already making bad, bad plans (once he has hold of that hand) so keeps his hand out of reach. Liam hates being late and Zayn’s bad angel has every intention of making him very late indeed.

“What, you honestly don’t think I could spend an entire day ‘being a student’?”

“No, I think you could spend an entire week being your version of a student.”

“So we’re agreed then? You be me and I be you?”

Zayn stares at him from behind his lashes. “Thought you said being you was hard.” He adopts the faux Midland accent he knows drives Liam up the wall. “And then I had to dismantle the whole bloomin biler. Took me fookin ages.”

“Ha fooking ha.” Liam’s laughing. “And I do not say ‘biler’. I speak good, me. And you’re one to talk – sometimes I can’t even understand what you’re fookin saying!”

“Ha bloomin ha.”

“I say bloomin cos it’s the polite thing to say. Imagine forgetting yourself and saying anything else when you’re dealing with some 77 year old biddy who gets scared if you come to the door rocking a 25 year old face and bod!”

“But you’re okay if you’re rocking a 26 year old face and bod?” Of course one of the best things about being coupled and being coupled with Liam in particular is you get to participate in ridiculous conversations…

Liam pretends to consider. “You know what, you’re right. Let’s say that you’re only gonna be safe once you hit the 40 mark then.”

“So your life really is hard then. My bad, I take it back.”

“You can ‘tek it back’ it all you like. You still lose the argument.”

“What argument?”

“Yeah, you’re right – there is no argument cos how could there be? Everyone knows there’s no comparison between a well-trained professional engineer and a skinny, lazy student who-“

“Er, skinny?”

“Well, I wasn’t going to say anything…”

Zayn rolls his eyes.

Seems like maybe he was wrong to talk down his bad angel, because maybe, just maybe Liam’s bad angel wants to come out to play too.

Clearly Liam knows as well as he does that taking this conversation to its logical conclusion leads to one outcome and one outcome only.

So, Liam isn’t quite ready to go to work yet then.

Fine; he can definitely work with that…

  
**

He doesn’t spend all day in front of the telly, nor does he spend his entire time on the laptop looking at social media sites.

He’s a diligent worker, getting lost in research, writing his assignments the moment he gets them, since that gives him time to himself, time to indulge himself in other pursuits.

He’s happy with Liam, happy in their apartment and that shows itself in his tendency to get to grips with his student life.

He didn’t used to feel quite this way or rather though he’s always been diligent when it comes to his work, it just never felt quite this way until now.

Since settling down with Liam (and how his sisters would laugh at that one), he’s found himself thinking about his future in a slightly different way than he ever has before.

He’d been absolutely certain about his plans, his future, but now he isn’t quite so sure.

He doesn’t even know that he could even properly explain this; just that Liam has somehow rearranged his molecules and now he believes he’s not quite the same man he used to be, the same man who wanted to teach, felt it was his life’s ambition to teach.

Liam hasn’t said or done anything, has no idea what’s going on in Zayn’s head.

He doesn’t even know what’s going on in his head, just that things feel…different… now.

He still has a year to complete and quite frankly can’t wait to get there.

His university education won’t be a waste – he simply doesn’t think that way – just that it won’t now necessarily follow the trajectory it was meant to (when he was still thinking as the Zayn who didn’t have Liam in his life).

He is very interested in what Liam does.

How could he possibly forget what an unexpected turn on it was to watch him work his magic at the old house? And while he isn’t interested in doing what he does, still, in a way, wants to be part of it.

He’s given it a lot of thought and does sometimes wonder if it’s just him being ridiculously clingy and in love, not wanting to have Liam out of his sight for a second, but he knows that he’s a little more level headed than that.

He is so careful about going Liam space – almost paranoid if he’s honest – so knows it’s really not that.

There is a fledgling plan forming, but he doesn’t want to broach it as yet, wants to give them more time to settle in to their relationship.

Well, he knows he’s not going anywhere, but it’s not for him to decide the same for Liam. They’ve each had really different experiences when it comes to love and relationships, and he has to, therefore, allow Liam to lead the relationship and just accept wherever it ends up.

But of course that’s only for now, while it’s still relatively new. At some point he’ll be sure enough, which will naturally lead to him feeling more secure and then he’ll be ready to do some leading of his own.

**

He’s not surprised that the call’s from Liam’s mum. Ever since he and Liam spent the day with Liam’s parents she’s been calling on a regular basis.

She reminds him of his mum – big heart, genuine and caring, open arms, open house, kids coming first second and third on their list of priorities.

He knows it’s not like this for a lot of his friends, people in general, and can only wonder at this other thing that undeniably connects him with Liam.

“You sound out of breath sweetheart. Was you doing something?”

“I was in the kitchen.”

“Oh, cooking?”

“Yeah, surprise for him.”

“Curry?”

Zayn laughs. “I _always_ make that, don’t I?”

“He says your lamb curry is the best meal he’s ever had.”

Zayn wonders how Liam dares say that to his mum’s face, but then his mum takes a lot of pride in her cooking. He doesn’t think Liam’s mum’s quite that full on… “He’s a bullshitter.”

“Not gonna deny that, but I know when he’s being genuine…”

There’s a short, telling silence between them and he wonders how it is that this woman he’s only met a few times knows him so well; how it is that he can read her and she him without effort, without the exchange of a word, a single glance.

Maybe it’s the connection forged when you both love someone so damn much.

“Well, if it matters, it’s my favourite thing to do.”

“He has a good appetite, does our Liam.”

Zayn laughs again, enjoying the understatement. “Our grocery bill would agree.”

“Oh, Zayn, do not get me started! Did I ever tell you about the one Christmas…”

  
**

Zayn really thinks he should be used to this; not like he doesn’t always do it, hasn’t always done it since they got together, but the truth is he really isn’t.

He always smells good; sometimes with a slight patina of healthy sweat, sometimes the minty gum he chews, sometimes the cigarette smoke that clings to his hair and clothes from being around customers all day, sometimes just the cologne he wears.

He comes in and the first thing he does is kiss him.

If he’s at the cooker he’ll wrap him up from behind, nuzzle his neck, seek his mouth.

If he’s on the sofa he’ll lean over and kiss him; if he’s on the laptop he’ll move it carefully to one side and kiss him.

He’s always done this, and Zayn should be so used to it, shouldn’t feel his heart hammering as he gets close, shouldn’t drown in his kiss.

But he isn’t and he does.

Has to ask himself for the hundredth time, as Liam goes off to shower and change, what the ever living fuck is wrong with him…


	2. Chapter 2

It’s okay that Liam works every day.

No, it is; not like he’s somehow managed to build his day around the time when Liam will be back from work, spending time with him.

No, he’s been independent forever; been working since he was 16, hasn’t ever needed a man, a relationship to bestow meaning to his life.

So why is it so hard to concentrate in lectures; so hard to even try to pretend any of the academic stuff matters anymore?

Truth is he’s never really been around guys who build their lives around their current boyfriend, who chat _incessantly_ about their boyfriend. Maybe that’s why he’s so unprepared for this, for this feeling, this urge to talk about, think about, praise Liam all day long - to anyone prepared to listen.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been quite so dismissive of the girls who used to do that; shouldn’t have rolled his eyes while silently thanking his lucky stars he wasn’t straight.

Well, he still thinks it’s appropriate to thank his stars for that, but maybe he should have held back a little on the disdain?

Someone really should have told him about this; this phenomenon, this feeling, this utterly overwhelming feeling of drowning, of being out of control while absolutely bloody loving it.

Still, even immersed in this besotted state he’s aware that most people wouldn’t see Liam’s appeal, wouldn’t see how special he is, would think Zayn had completely lost his mind.

But he’s used to that, used to people thinking he could ‘do better’.

What they don’t seem to realize is that he’s never been drawn primarily to the way a guy looks, not when he wants to spend more than a night with them, but is aware that other people really don’t get his taste in men at all.

He does believe, however, that had he been what people expected him to be, _assumed_ him to be, he’d have let Liam slip right though his fingers, and the mere idea is enough to trigger his anxiety every single time he lets himself go there.

At this point he’s pretty much given up trying to work it out, work out what it is about Liam that drives him crazy, makes _him_ ‘the one’, not because he finds it hard or unproductive, but simply because he wouldn’t even know where to begin or once begun where to _stop_.

He’s _writing_ about him practically every day – poems, he calls them, but he thinks they’re lyrics, really, since he has been silently humming the Liam tune ever since they met.

One day, when he finds the courage, he’ll even compose the song… and sing it to him…

But there are things about Liam that make him quite nervous – it’s like having a crush only ramped up to 11, where even when you land him your heart still pitter patters every time you hear his voice unexpectedly, where you still feel like the guy admiring from a distance, yearning and yearning.

They’ve been together for months, and he knows, and is confident _Liam_ knows, that this is for keeps.

So why the hell does he still feel this way?

He’s used to throwaway relationships, where no-one really expects anything to last, where people admire you for being with a guy for 6 months, regard that as true commitment - a long term relationship.

Is that why he’s so nervous about this, because he has no real template for this type of relationship?

Straight relationships last – he knows that – but he has never been inclined to compare anything _he_ does to anything in that world. As far as he’s concerned that world is not his world; not when it comes to relationships, to navigating your way through life, and has never really understood why other gay guys actively seem to _want_ to base their behaviour, thoughts and feelings on what straight people do.

He left that world far behind once he hit puberty and accepted that he couldn’t keep pretending to be attracted to girls, not when the boys around him, having also hit puberty, were sending signals to him all day long.

He’d had a hard enough time trying to fit into the world, what with his heritage and the rest of it, and had spent a good few years wrestling his head into finally cooperating, finding a way to make peace with everything since it was the only way he saw himself getting though it intact.

And of course when puberty hit his head had, by then, been so well trained that it just hadn’t been prepared to go back to the bad old days when they’d pretend and pretend, downplay who he was for the sake of what he hoped would be an easier life.

So when puberty hit, his head, having finally lost the habit of pretending, simply wouldn’t allow him to do anything but be authentic, step into who he truly was.

Looking back he could see now that part of the problem had stemmed from the fact that there had been a sweet shop, full of easily accessible sweets, which had really flexible opening hours…

At the time you think it’s a good thing, the best thing, but truth is the sweets are made of sugar, rot your teeth, while you pile on the pounds.

The classy confectionery – the Swiss made chocolate – is sold somewhere else, in another part of town and the opening hours are really limited – to showcase its exclusivity.

He wonders now if the only reason he even met Liam was because he’ been slowly but surely withdrawing from that life, more than ready to sample the classy confectionery, and had thus been _allowed_ to see what he never had before.

But as Liam would tell him he ‘don’ half like to overthink things’.

And it’s true, but he wouldn’t be studying English at uni if he didn’t like to immerse himself in words and the meaning behind them, interrogate not only his own thought processes but everyone else’s too..

It’s his nature and he knows Liam likes it, knows he’s not so secretly proud of the way Zayn thinks, loves that he does so well at uni.

Liam would absolutely fucking _hate_ uni and that’s the thing about him – he has a very healthy sense of self; not one to denigrate the talents he knows he has, but not one to shy away from recounting his shortcomings either. So while he admits he would have been shite at studying, doing the whole uni thing he _knows_ he’s clever, knows that not everyone can do what _he_ finds so easy to do, so definitely doesn’t feel threatened or intimidated by Zayn’s brains.

And that’s just one of the many things Zayn loves about him.

When all’s said and done, is it really so wrong to want to keep everything just as they are; to fear the future and what it might mean to your current state of happiness?

He’s _never_ been this happy before.

Is it _really_ so wrong to want to keep it that way?

 

 

**

 

“Is that a remote in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?”

“Not got any ‘pockets’.” Zayn rolls his eyes, though he knows Liam won’t be able to see.

“So, just pleased to see me, then.”

“I _was_ …”

“You couldn’t do this for a living, could you?”

“No,” he agrees, rolling his eyes some more.

Liam sighs, adjusts his position a little. “Why have you stopped?” He sounds totally relaxed, voice deep, sexy, and Zayn hates himself for being so easy, for helplessly reacting to that particular quality in his voice.

“Because everyone hates a critic.”

“Who was criticizing? I just said you’d get sacked – maybe prosecuted – if you ever took this up professionally – which you probably could, by the way. Your fingers are magic, babe.”

He does an impression of Zayn on the last word and yelps when Zayn pinches him. “What? You _do_ have magic fingers, though!”

“Save the comedy routine for the fam – at Christmas. I hear they’re the only ones who laugh at your jokes.”

“Ooh, that’s harsh.”

“Oh, babe, you wanna try me?”

“Really? Right now?”

Zayn reaches back and slaps him on the arse, which elicits a predictable fake yelp. “Right now.”

“Zayn, do you think you will ever actually fulfill your promise to give me a massage? I mean it’s what, the 5th time, and I have yet to actually get a massage!”

“Seriously? You want a massage? Here’s your fucking massage.”

“Now why does that sound so much like a threat?”

“No, here you go; here’s your fucking massage…”

“Er, Zayn…”

 

**

 

“Not back in work until Wednesday. Fancy a weekend away?”

Liam’s sitting at the table, eating an apple. The loud intermittent crunch has an amused Zayn thoroughly hypnotized. He’s amused because he can imagine how Liam would react to this admission (not that he’d ever make such an admission). _“An apple, you’re turned on by the sound of me eating an apple? Babe, you okay? Let me get mum to take you to the doctor’s.”_

“A weekend? Yeah, okay. What you got in mind?”

“I dunno. Paris, maybe?”

When Zayn turns, brow furrowed, he finds Liam staring at his phone, holding the apple to his mouth. “Sorry?”

“What?” He glances up at him and Zayn honestly can’t tell if he’s being genuine or taking the piss.

“You serious?”

Now its Liam’s turn to furrow his brow. “How d’ya mean?”

“Paris. You serious?”

“It was just a suggestion - _if_ you want. We could go anywhere. Well, maybe not _anywhere_ -“

“Why Paris?”

“Cos it’s better than the Lake District or London or Brighton. I dunno. Just somewhere different. You do have a passport, don’t you?”

Zayn nods absently, not really hearing the question. “You genuinely want us to go to Paris this weekend.”

“Zayn, what’s the big deal? Paris, Dublin – Devon. I don’t care where it is so long as it’s with you.”

They stare at each other in silence for a moment then Zayn reaches out a gentle hand to his cheek. “Paris it is then.”

“At last. It’s like pulling bloody teeth with you, isn’t it?”

Zayn grins, joins him at the table. “So you gonna book it then? It’ll probably be more expensive last minute won’t it?”

“Definitely. So it’s a good job I booked it a couple weeks ago, isn’t it?”

Zayn stares at him.

Liam takes a deliberate, considered bite of his apple.


	3. Chapter 3

 

Well, it was only to be expected; he’d been avoiding them and for good reason.    
  
Liam claims his sisters are the nosiest in the world, but he’s wrong – dead wrong.  
  
His sisters are the nosiest in the world, and there are three of them. One’s older and one’s the baby so between the two he’s caught like a fish on a hook, too used to indulging one and being strong armed by the other to ever seriously expect to keep his secrets to himself for long.  
  
That’s why he bloody well avoids them!  
  
But no, Liam had to bloody take him to Paris, didn’t he, making the possession of and therefore fetching of a passport bloody essential.  
  
He isn’t stupid enough to let them know why he’s coming up, but has little real hope that they won’t somehow get it out of him before allowing him to see the light of day once more.  
  
They claim not be ‘bloody interested in your stupid love-life’ and yet…   
  
His mum’s not much better; not exactly interested in finding out who he’s dating, but they get their nosiness from somewhere and it isn’t his dad. She wants to know every single detail: his course, his accommodation, his friends…  
  
Well, he supposed it was his own fault, having elected to keep them at arm’s length and thus fuelling the inherent Malik need to know bloody everything.  
  
Maybe it’s just a female thing; neither he nor his dad give a stuff about what they get up to in their spare time, with their friends or work colleagues.  
  
Why doesn’t he have brothers instead of nosy ass sisters?  
  
Life would be so much easier.  
  
“You look well, though, sweetheart. Your skin’s lovely.”  
  
“Mum.” She is actually pinching his cheeks!  
  
“And I’m glad you’re not wearing that beard anymore. Hiding that lovely skin underneath all that hair was a travesty.”  
  
“God’s sake, mum. You ever gonna let me live it down? It were four years ago!”  
  
“Such a pretty face. You could hardly see your face for all that hair! I was just saying Donnie, it’s nice to see his lovely face.”  
  
Doniya snorts (as expected). “Speak for yourself, mum. Me, I could live without seeing that ugly mug. Gonna have bloody nightmares for the next week, now.”  
  
“Sod off.” He manages to extricate himself from his mum’s clutches.  “My things still in the cupboard, mum?”  
  
“Course they are, sweetheart, where else would they be?”  
  
And here it comes, the sudden interest – from all of them, though his mum is a lot better at hiding it.  
  
“Alright. Just gonna check on something.”  He’s determined to make it seem like a casual thing, a really nothing-to-see-here- move-on thing, but they’re all bloody looking at him with those witchy eyes.  
  
He knows better – does he ever – than to make a thing out of it, so simply exits the room and makes his way to the cupboard.  
  
Why is it in the middle of the hallway though? Why not in the basement. Actually, why don’t they have a basement? His life would be so much easier.  
  
Safaa’s the first one to come nosing, clearly sent by the others to do the dirty work since they know he’ll never shout at her.  
  
“Can I help, Baba?”  
  
“Yeah, alright.” He hands her a bag full of papers, books, junk he doesn’t even know why he’s keeping.  “I’m looking for some papers – an essay I did called ‘Jane Austen: symbolism and Hyperbole’. Think you can trawl through all that and find it for me?”  
  
“I think so, Baba. Let me have a look.”  
  
He smiles to himself as he spots the passport, quickly shoving it in his bag as he continues to pretend to search the cupboard.  
  
What, did they think they were dealing with an amateur, here?  
  
**  
  
“The essay was really that important you had to come all the way up for just one day?” Doniya’s looking skeptical.  
  
Well, that’s because she had no conception of the importance of academic thoroughness. Putting a wodge of foundation on a mannequin head did not have the same importance or gravitas as having the correct citations and getting accurate footnotes.  
  
But hey, he wasn’t going to say that.  
  
Leave her to work that out for herself – if she could.  
  
He shrugs. “Yeah, was a bit panicky thinking I’d lost it, then I remembered I’d left it here.”  
  
“Glad you’ll be able to sleep at night now.” She catches Waliyha’s attention then rolls her eyes.  
  
He glares at her or a second before recalling that he’s got one over on her at which point the glare turns to a smirk.  
  
“We miss you, so much, sweetheart.” His mum does actually look a bit upset which makes him feel a little guilty.  
  
He doesn’t want to be in Bradford anymore, but he does still love them, does still miss them.  
  
It didn’t occur to him until now that they might not actually get that.  “I miss you too, Mum.” He perches on the arm of her chair, touches her hair. “It’s hard to be in Bradford, what with all that’s happened, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you and everything.”  
  
“I know, sweetheart, it’s just hard not seeing you.”  
  
“I promise I’ll make more of an effort, and mum, how about you come down for the weekend or something later on? I can’t put you up, but we could probably stay in a hotel or something.”  
  
The smile lights up her entire face.  “Sweetheart,” is all she says before pulling him into her arms.  
  
Over his mother’s head he sees his older sisters rolling their eyes.  
  
  
**  
  
He decides not to tell Liam just yet that his tribe of nosy women is about to descend on the Midlands, decides it’s best to leave that till after the trip.  
  
**  
  
Okay, he might be prepared to concede that maybe, just maybe Liam’s mum might give his a run for her money in terms of worrying and making a fuss about absolutely fuck all.  
  
They are taking a trip across the channel, not heading off to Antarctica.  He’d had no idea France had sub zero temperatures nor that it was so dangerous there.  Apparently he and Liam should have taken out life insurance as well as travel insurance.  
  
No, his mum definitely wasn’t that bad, but still, it just means they care and Liam’s obviously as used to this nonsense as he is, takes it all in stride.   
  
Great; pays to have a partner who gets it, won’t make a big deal of it. Can’t imagine having to explain this shit to anyone else.  
  
**  
  
Travelling is never great, but it’s different when you’re with someone you love, who you get on with so well, so what could have been a seriously unpleasant trip turns into something else entirely.  
  
**  
  
They were tired on the way in, a little irate from all the red tape and faffing about, but once they’re in the room, alone, together, the Eiffel Tower majestic in the near distance, everything changes.  
  
**  
  
Zayn thinks most guys expect sex to get boring. That’s why they have affairs, why their eyes are always roaming; you just don’t expect to keep eating the same meal day after day and not want to try something else, something a little more ‘exotic’.  
  
Well, it would be a little previous for him to claim he’s different, that this is different; not like he and Liam have been together for that long, not like he can actually attest to the fact that he’ll never get bored. He doesn’t, after all, have anything to prove that.  
  
He just knows.  
  
Sex with Liam is just different. It isn’t about the way he looks or anything he does; it’s about the way Zayn feels and he knows he’s going to feel this way for the rest of his life, so sex simply won’t get boring.  
  
Besides, he and Liam damn well know they’ll never get bored with his lamb bhuna, so…  
  
**  
  
It’s funny but it is actually different making love somewhere new.  
  
Had Liam figured this out, because he hadn’t, is actually really surprised at the difference.  
  
Yet it’s the weirdest thing, because he honestly feels that this only makes their bed even more special, that the next time they make love in their beds it’s going to feel really special.  
  
Had Liam figured this one out too?  
  
At this point nothing would surprise him.  
  
He’d sussed Liam out the first time they met; the way he was one thing on the surface, something very different underneath.  
  
Zayn wonders if Liam has any idea how much of a turn on that is.  
  
  
**  
  
“Wasn’t actually planning to spend all weekend in bed,” Liam confesses, arm around Zayn’s shoulders as they lie together on the king size bed.  They’ve gravitated over to Liam’s side as they always seem to, though, of course, there’s not usually so much space on the other side.  
  
“What was you planning to do?” The hair on Liam’s chest draw his fingers like iron files to a magnet.  
  
“Oh, I dunno, go to art galleries, museums, Eiffel…”  
  
“We could still do that.”  
  
“Oh could he sound any more enthusiastic!”  
  
“I am, I’m very enthusiastic. Look.” He makes a face of wild eyed enthusiasm eliciting a laugh from Liam that makes him grin.  
  
“’S’alright, mate, don’t hurt yourself.”  
  
“Maybe next time.” He gives Liam’s chest an apologetic kiss.  
  
“Mebbe.” He kisses him on the mouth, preventing him responding to the tease.  
  
They lie together, the sound of Paris outside their window, and Zayn wonders if it’s possible to actually die from happiness.  
  
He hopes not, but still, not going to stop him from piling as much happiness on both his and Liam’s plate as he possibly can.  
  



	4. Chapter 4

He lies there, after Liam’s gone, and tries hard to stop grinning like the proverbial cat that got the proverbial cream.

 

It’s flattering, though, to know Liam prefers their bed; that Paris only made him want Zayn, in their bed, even more.

 

Liam doesn’t _say_ it, but then Liam has his own way of saying these things, doesn’t really need the words.

 

Sighing, he turns on his side, regards the place where Liam recently lay, places a hand on the pillow which caressed his hair…

 

It feels so good, so good to be with him, and he doesn’t know why he doesn’t want to tell anyone how he feels, doesn’t want to reveal this to the rest of the world.

 

He’s proud, yes, but then he’s also superstitious, and jealous, and a little afraid; afraid that when all is said and done he has no _control_ over this, no control of the very thing that gives rise to these joyous feelings of contentment, safety, surety, bliss.

 

He knows, or at least his superstitious mind _reminds_ him, that all it takes is a second for it all to be taken away; for the fire of passionate commitment to turn to ashes…

 

Taking a breath he pushes the feelings away, replaces them instead with thoughts of the day to come – work, assignments, boring and trivial conversational exchanges.

 

And it works; the feelings subside enough that he can now face the day, heart calm and steady, mind quieted, sedated with the minutiae of navigating his way through yet another boring uni day.

 

 

**

 

Liam doesn’t work 9-5. He claims he’s _meant_ to, that that’s what he signed up for but even on the first day they met Zayn was made aware this guy worked irregular hours.

 

It’s a pain in the backside, not always knowing when he’ll be at home, hurrying home, expecting him to be there only to get a text saying he’s working over.

 

Zayn supposes he’ll get used to it, but right now doesn’t want to.

 

And it’s not like Liam’s a copper or anything, or a hospital doctor – he doesn’t go that much over when he’s called out or the job’s more complex than expected, nor is he ever in danger (except from “a massive pair of tits – busting out of her nightie! I swear I thought she was gonna brain me with them!”), but Zayn still feels aggrieved that he isn’t home when he wants him to be.

 

He doesn’t tell him that, but then he doesn’t need to. Liam’s kisses are always a little longer, a little hotter when he’s had to work over.

 

Neither of them ever alludes to it, but they both know.

 

Today he really, really hopes he’ll be home on time.

 

He’s not planning to cook today, wants to take him out – if he isn’t too tired.

 

First, though he has to get through this, the worst lecture on the list.

 

Sue Nellis is probably a really nice woman, possibly extremely able, but she cannot teach to save her life. It’s so ironic that she’s elected to teach, therefore. She knows her subject, but Zayn knows that’s only the first, and to be frank, the _minimum_ requirement of her craft.

 

She rambles, goes off on tangents, fails to make her point. It’s both easy and hard to drift off when she’s on the podium. Easy because it is boring as fuck, hard because you need to be hyper alert to follow and get what you need from her ramblings.

 

He almost wishes hers was the final lecture of the day, because at least then he’d be able to go home, sit in a quiet, dark room and get his head on straight again. Unfortunately, he is required to _function_ post her lecture and that’s kind of stressful.

 

Liam doesn’t believe she’s as bad as he makes out. Well, that’s understandable; Sue Nellis is an experience you could only appreciate firsthand…

 

Who knows, though, maybe she wouldn’t bother Liam as much, maybe if your degree didn’t depend on it you would be quite entertained by the Sue Nellises of the world.

 

Sighing, he settles down, makes a production of getting out the paraphernalia of his role as a student, thinks about Liam…

 

 

**

 

He sees that he has a text – from Liam – tries not to mind, but it’s too late the disappointment is already creeping over him.

 

**I’m sat at home watching bloody Home and Away. Where are you? Rescue me!**

The relief is a little ridiculous, he feels, but there it is. He answers straight away:

 

**Your choice, and I know you love your soaps, so I’ll leave you to it. Might go for a drink with the others at the student union. Don’t wait up.**

He hits send and waits, a massive grin on his face.

 

He can practically feel the indignation bristling over the digital airways:

**DON’T YOU BLOODY DARE!**

 

Laughing out loud he sends his final text:

**See you in half an hour. Don’t start anything in the kitchen!**

He waits for the emoji he knows is coming and laughs again when he receives it…

******

Didn’t mean to actually have sex, just say hello with a kiss, but maybe he shouldn’t have sent the last text given he knows Liam’s kink.

 

Looks like Liam had been sitting on this since the morning, why he was home early and Zayn’s flattered all over again that Liam seemingly can’t get enough of him since Paris.

 

He has no idea what happened, what got into him, but he is certainly not complaining.

 

**

 

“Not cooking, tonight.”

 

Liam kisses him on the side of the neck. “I wouldn’t say that, babe – you’re like a malfunctioning barbecue.”

 

“You what?”

 

“Smoking hot!” he blows a raspberry against his skin, laughing, ducking away as Zayn pushes at him. “What? It’s true!”

 

“You need to work on the sweet talk, babe.”

 

“I do? Okay. I will.” He returns for another kiss. “That was really nice,” he says quietly, seriously.

 

Zayn, feeling his heart start to stutter, takes a breath. “Yeah. You’re sexy as hell.”

 

“You too. I fancy the pants off you. Hope you know that.”

 

“Hope you do.”

 

The kiss tries to express how they’re feeling. Zayn concludes that the day they can merge into each other simply by the act of kissing might be the day they come _close_ …

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, plot begins...next chapter (I think)
> 
> In the meantime late last year I posted 3 parts of an original fc as a sort of gift for you all. Now, there haven't been many readers, but if you want to give it a go i think you'll find it's worth your time. I don't share this with many, but the people who have read it like it, so see if it appeals. I've kept it up for this long because i wanted to give you an opportunity to read it - if you want to. But I will be taking it down very soon.
> 
> Here's the link to the first part http://archiveofourown.org/works/8941555


	5. Chapter 5

 

“No, sorry, can’t take you anywhere looking like that.” Liam's examining him, lips pursed, head wagging disapprovingly from side to side.

 Frowning, Zayn looks down at himself. “What? What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

 “Er, who said anything was wrong with what you’re wearing?”

 “Well, you did – by implication.”

 “The implication was that I didn’t want to be sparking anyone out or bitch slapping any bitches giving you the eye. Isn’t it _obvious_ , mate?” He’s wearing the patient expression Zayn’s mum used to wear whenever she had cause to ‘debate’ with the five year old Safaa.

 “Well it’s a good thing I’m not the jealous type otherwise you’d be chained to the bed all day, every day.”

 “Oi oi mate, not into them kinda games.”

 “Oh and the rest.”

 “ _Tied_ to the bed, maybe. Chained? Ouch! And since when are _you_ not the jealous type?”

 Since Zayn honestly has no answer – not an honest one at least – to this he changes the subject…

 

**

 

He’d sort of been planning, well, _thinking_ about this meal for a while. They both liked dining out but it had been some time since they’d had the opportunity. By rights they should have dined out at a different high class restaurant every night in Paris, but had instead stayed in their suite the entire weekend, which _could_ have been seen as opportunity gone begging.

 Doesn’t regret it, obviously, but still…

 It a just nice, really nice, having Liam all to himself but out in public.

 Nice food, good wine, better company.

 He is so damn sexy; the way he looks into Zayn’s eyes when they’re talking, the promise, the heat, the fascination.

 He knows it’s only been a matter of months but he already know this won’t change, knows this will continue to be the fundamental nature of their relationship.

 Hard to imagine _ever_ getting bored…

 “Well, this is nice.” He’s looking around approvingly. “Is this your way of telling me not to keep you in bed all weekend next time we’re in Paris?”

 “How you figure?”

 Liam looks teasingly into his eyes. “Showing me what I _could_ have been gobbling instead.”

 Zayn rolls his eyes and hands him the menu without speaking.

 

 **

 

He’d noticed the guy a while back.

 He’s with a party of four, office workers celebrating by the look of it, though he does seem a little young, markedly younger than the others.

 He’s been staring at him for the longest time, quickly averting his gaze every time Zayn tries to catch him in the act.

 Liam has his back turned and Zayn debates whether or not to say anything. They don’t keep secrets, but neither do they dissect and pore over every mild flirtation, every pass they receive.

 He decides to let it be.

 “I swear they think it’s part of my job description!”

 Zayn gives a sympathetic moue, watching him sip his wine – no doubt to lubricate the vocal chords he’s obviously going to be using to complain about his work colleagues in the way he does with such facility.

 He’s pretty sure Liam hasn’t the faintest clue just how much Zayn loves hearing him go off on one when it comes to his work and customers.

 Probably has no idea just how naturally witty he is.

 He thinks of himself as a boring, no-frills kinda guy, when the opposite, so far as Zayn’s concerned at least, is true.

 “It’s cos you’re so good at it.”

 “Steady on, mate – we’re in the middle of a restaurant.” He glances around. “A family restaurant - sort of.”

 There are couples, small to medium groups, as far as the eye can see – not a single kid in sight.

 “Yeah, right. And I’m not the one with the one track mind!”

 “Tell my willy that the next time you see him. On second thoughts…”

 Zayn idly wonders if maybe he should ask the waiter to water Liam’s wine next time…

 

**

 

The guy leaves before they do and as he does he gives Zayn a lingering final stare.

 Zayn frowns, uncomfortable, seriously debating whether he should tell Liam, but why, what would be the point?

 And it’s hard to say how he’d react. Sometimes he’s witty and silly and they have a good laugh. Other times he goes off on one – not _blaming_ Zayn for being ‘stupidly fit’ but unhappy all the same.

 Since it’s done with he really doesn’t see the point in making him unhappy if he doesn’t need to.

 

**

 

Alcohol has no adverse affect on Liam’s performance in bed.

 If anything it takes away a few more of the very few inhibitions he has left.

 Lying beside him, warm, satisfied Zayn wonders if he should wine and dine him more often.

 

**

 

“No, but, it’s not easy for her, Zayn, and sweetheart, I’m sorry to even be saying this to you, but she might be there when you come over and I don’t want there to be any awkwardness.”

 What could he say? He could certainly live without ever seeing her, ever hearing her name again, but that’s not for him to say, is it? If she wanted to stay in touch with Karen, then what could he or Liam do about that? “I understand and I don’t want there to be either.” He seriously considers telling Karen to give him a heads up when Sharon will be around so there’d be absolutely no chance of them running into each other.

 Karen sighs. “It’s quite hard; never had this happen before. We got quite close, so I suppose she wants to maintain our relationship. I just think if it was me I’d sort of want to cut ties a bit.”

 Yeah, any normal person would, but who’s he to say? Doesn’t hate her; how could he when he doesn’t even know her and Liam hadn’t had a bad word to say about her (maybe because he’s a gentleman).

 Perhaps it would be easier all round if they were at least _cordial_ with each other.

 Or maybe it would be better if they never ever clapped eyes on each other again.

 

“Don’t worry, Karen. We’ll make it work. What’s important is not to make things awkward for Liam and I’m sure Linda feels the same as we do.” Well, he wouldn’t count on it, but why not at least give her the benefit of the doubt?

 He can feel Karen’s relief across the airwaves. “Oh sweetheart, that’s such a relief. I was beside meself wondering what would happen if you was here and she come over again.”

 “Nah, it’ll be fine. So we still on for Sunday then?”

 "Of course. Not sure the girls will be able to make it, but me and Liam’s dad look forward to seeing you both.”

 “Same. Can’t wait. Bye, Karen. See you soon.”

 “Bye sweetheart. Look after him for me.”

 “Always.” And forever…

 

 **

 

Although they have the car, he’s surprised at how often Liam wants to take the bus into town. He claims he just hates driving into town, but Zayn suspects he just likes public transport.

 Despite his constant bellyaching about customers and colleagues both, Liam’s a people person and Zayn loves watching him people watch when they travel to and through the city centre.

 Zayn wonders at times if Liam’s secretly planning a career in stand up, because he swears he’s slyly and systematically gathering material…

 “Wow, can she actually walk in them heels? Well there ya go- question answered. Don’t get it. I remember when Nic came home in the highest, stupidest pair of heels. Dad went ballistic. When he was at school this girl got raped and murdered and the tale was that she tried to run when the bloke was following her, but got her heel caught in some grating or something. Don’t know. I don’t even know if it actually happened that way or if they got it backwards. I know me dad believed it anyway, and he’d go on and on and on at the girls when they ‘took it to stupid levels’. Personally I like a nice pair of heels – on a girl, behave – but _not_ then it’s taken to stupid levels.”

 ”Any point asking you to actually define ‘stupid levels’?”

 “You’ll know it when you see it.”

 And he’s right of course. He certainly did recognize it when it appeared in his face –especially when it dropped to the ground a second later, barely able to maintain a steady enough balance to even maintain the conceit of actually _walking_.

 He wants to criticize girls and the stupid lengths they go to in the name of impressing men, but according to his sisters – ‘you sexist pig! It’s not about men; it’s for us, cos we want to look _good_. Not for _men_ , for us. Chauvinist!’ In any case _he’s_ done some pretty stupid things in the name of looking good for men.

 Maybe when all’s said and done they should consider maybe just locking men up - problem solved.

 Although…

 

 **

 

“I have no idea why you even bother asking – you’re just gonna do what you want at the end of the day.”

 “Well, yes, but what I want is influenced by what _you_ want, too.” He’s examining how his arse looks in the fitted trousers and Zayn wishes he could actually pull off the disinterested casualness he’s aiming for. He’s pretty sure anyone observing would be able to see just how fucking casual he is.

 Funny how, when they’re not in an overtly sexual situation Liam reverts back to the guy who has no fucking appreciation of his many, many assets.

 Why else would he be ‘baiting’ him this way.

 It’s all Zayn can do to keep his hands off him and judging from the way the sales assistant’s hovering, pretending to fold clothes, stealing not very subtle glances, he’s not alone in his appreciation of Liam’s many assets.

 He is _so_ tempted to put his hands on him _just_ to make it clear who he belongs to, to signal to the assistant to back off, but this horrifies him – he just does not subscribe to that type of behavior, hated whenever any of his exes tried it with him and cannot believe he’s there himself now.

 What would Liam think if he could actually see the thoughts parading through his head?

 “You like these?”

 Zayn pretends to consider, hoping his thoughts _aren’t_ written all over his face. “They’re good, yeah. Get those.”

 Liam grins at him. “Well that was less painful than it could have been. Back in a bit.”

 Zayn takes the opportunity to pull himself together, not sparing the time – he has none – to talk himself through his jealousy, instead making do with simply telling himself to get a grip.

 Only thing, though, that assistant had better not get in his face, not have his eyes all over Liam when they go to pay.

 Can’t be expected to stand for liberties being taken, can he?

 

**

 

“From haute cuisine to Maccy D’s. That’s the life for me.” Looking at his grinning face Zayn understands that he really isn’t joking, and for some reason a part of him sings, gratified, amazedd at this subtle sign from Liam that whatever Zayn brings to his door is just perfect, couldn’t be better.

 “I’d try to get more used to the Maccy D bit than the haute cuisine, if I were you.”

 “Obviously. I mean who could eat haute every day? Whereas Maccy D’s…”

 Zayn smiles. “True, true. I mean who wouldn’t rather eat junk than tasty healthy premium chef prepared French cuisine?”

 “Exactly.”

 Zayn can only grin, placing his hand – subtly – on Liam’s lower back as they make their way to the counter. “And that’s why we’re perfect for each other.”

 “Tell me about it. A couple who eat junk together…”

 “Stay together.”

 Liam turns and they high five, laughing like idiots.

 

 **

 He assumes Karen’s talked to Liam about the Sharon situation, though Liam hasn’t said as much. Zayn doesn’t know if there’s actually anything to talk about: Liam’s ex might be around and there’s a decent chance they’d run into her at some point. What really is there to _say_ on the subject?

 It wouldn’t be pleasant for anyone concerned, but that went without saying. Nothing they can do about it; can’t ban her from the Payne home, can’t suggest Karen put her foot down and _tell_ her to make a clean break. Clearly she really liked Karen. Was it fair to ask her to give up that relationship simply because she and Liam had split?

 It’s a jagged spur in his gut, though, because he honestly wants to hear from Liam, hear what he really thinks – no holds barred.

 But he hasn’t raised the subject and Zayn can’t, not out of the blue; it would look like he was trying to get rid of her or something or maybe make it seem like she was a problem for him – the last thing he wants to do.

 She _was_ a problem, but that’s just because he’s being stupid about it, wanted her out of their lives – clean and done. The reality us that she’s not interfered with their lives in any say at all, simply been maintaining her friendship with her ex’s mum…

 No, that was definitely off. Who does that? He said he’d cheated on you and broke you up because of that. You find out that the person he’s with is a guy. You find out that this guy who he’s only known for months is having Sunday lunch on a regular at your would-be in-laws…

 Surely anyone else would have taken their pride in both hands - and cut all ties.

 He strongly suspects Karen’s uncomfortable because she suspects Sharon still has feelings for Liam, is probably even of a mind to try again with him if she gets the chance.

 Yeah, that’s majorly awkward.

 Zayn has no fear he’ll ever lose Liam to her, but her presence, the fact of her is like a nagging toothache, the sort you can feel just waiting on the edges of your nerve endings ready to set them on fire.

 But he’s prepared to wait, wait and see if he’s simply blowing it all out of proportion.

 It’s been 4 weeks since he saw Karen – and Geoff – and he has no intention of spoiling this day with his ridiculous musings.

 “Oh fuck. Hold on a minute.” He looks up into Liam’s face, which is wearing an expression made up of both agitation and a weird sort of concentration, like he’s busy trying to work something out.

 He slows the car.

 Frowning, Zayn asks, “What’s wrong? Why have you slowed down?”

 “Bloody hell, hope she didn’t see me. Oh fuck, just look straight ahead. No, say something so I can pretend to- Come on, Zayn, quick!”

 “Well I’ll just ask again: what the hell’s going on?” He glances up just as a small, nippy red Clio comes along side them heading in the other direction. He recognizes her straight away although she isn’t looking in their direction, clearly hadn’t seen them. But that’s not what causes his heart to start racing.

 It’s the driver, the driver who meets his eye for the split second it takes to zip past.

 Unbelievable as it seems he has no doubt that the guy sitting next to Liam’s ex is the guy from the restaurant.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Liam barely greets his mum. “Mum, was that Sharon I saw just now?”

Karen aims a quick, unreadable glance Zayn’s way. “Yes, love. She came to drop off me Avon order.” A beat; she’s still hugging him. “You don’t mind, do you, love?”

He can’t see Liam’s face, but he can read the frown in the set of his shoulders, the slight stiffness of his posture.

They really haven’t discussed her outside that awkward first meeting and maybe they should have.

“I don’t know, mum; I don’t want to keep running into her.”

Neither of them is talking about the elephant in the room – him – but he knows they’re both acutely aware that there is indeed an elephant in the room.

Should he say something or is it not his place to?

He remains silent, waiting his turn to greet Karen.

Patiently waiting.

 

**

Karen asks Liam to help her in the kitchen and he knows that they’ll be talking the opportunity to discuss the elephant in the room, but more importantly, the elephant’s position vis a vis the potentially awkward visitations of the ex.

He fully accepts that it’s not his place to mind… and he doesn’t.

Sort of.

Tries not to.

It’s just…

He really shouldn’t feel so jagged when it comes to Liam’s ex – he snogged Zayn in front of her, clearly wouldn’t care of he never saw her again – yet he does, does feel jagged and jealous and sore whenever the subject arises (a rare occurrence, but seeming to be looming large of late).

Why did she have to pick this specific Sunday to visit Karen?

Does she somehow _know_ when Liam’s scheduled to visit?

Well, yes, knowing Karen the way he does it’s entirely possible, probable – _certain_ – that she accidentally revealed exactly when Liam would be visiting for Sunday lunch.

Yeah, had to be something like that and that assumption (though in his mind it’s no longer an assumption, now a certainty) makes him seethe with resentment toward her.

Why the hell can’t she simply leave him – them – alone?

In her place he would have too much pride…

He surprises an awkwardly retreating, embarrassed part of himself which appears to be _questioning_ that assertion. It seems to be saying that no, when it comes to liam you know fuck well pride would play no part in it.

But he pushes it roughly to the side, refusing to allow that he and the ex could possibly have any commonality – not in _any_ way…

“Dad, I found you the rod you was after.” Liam’s back in the room, a magazine – catalogue – in hand. His first glance is for Zayn, though he neither smiles nor acknowledges his presence. Zayn doesn’t mind; the fact that he looks at him like that, even in a simple glance, when he’s not particularly attempting to ‘speak’ to him nonverbally, just a standard ‘when I look at you this is what my face shows, cos it’s what’s reflected from my heart’ look is enough to wipe away all the absurd thoughts that had been keeping him company till then.

_Geoff_ certainly hadn’t been. A grunt had been the only acknowledgment Zayn’d got on arrival.

To be fair, Liam hadn’t got anything else either.

According to Liam that means you’re part of the family – when his dad doesn’t look up from the paper or tear his attention from the telly when you arrive it definitely means you belong.

Zayn watches the two men together, missing his dad, remembering how it used to be between them.

His dad’s been absent too long and he a careless and selfish son.

He needs to go see him soon.

“You up for that?” Liam’s looking at him, saying a silent ‘no, say no’.

“Never been fishing. Wouldn’t mind.” And when Liam glares at him above his dad’s suddenly animated form, Zayn grins.

 

**

“Mum, I swear your roasts keep getting better and better every time.”

“Well, you’d hope so; had enough bloomin’ practice.”

“And it shows, Karen, this is delicious.”

Karen regards him for a second, fork in hand. “Liam tells me your mum’s a great cook.”

There’s a slight, slightly awkward, at least from his perspective, silence.

Uh-oh.

Now, he has lived with women, grown up around women, has learned, for the sake of his mental health, the ways of women and thus knows that this type of opener requires a very specific response. “She’s good, but she can’t cook roast beef the way you do. She’s never really got the hang of beef.” And it is true; they don’t eat roast beef, so she really hasn’t got the hang of it. Of course his mum would argue, would likely rustle up a three course gourmet feast made up entirely of beef dishes the next time he goes home just cos, but he’s not going to ever tell her what he just said, is he?

Karen, smiling, turns to her dinner, raises the fork to her mouth. “Thank you sweetheart, but I’m sure she’s a fantastic cook.” She chews delicately. “When are we going to meet her?”

Zayn nearly chokes, wondering, even as he sips the ice cold water, why he hadn’t expected this. Karen, if he stops for a moment and thinks about it, seems like the sort of parent who would expect to meet their offspring’s partner’s parents sooner rather than later.

At any other time, with any other guy he’d be indignant at the temerity, the utter uselessness of this, but he has every intention of spending the rest of his life with Liam so at some point the families would all have to meet…

“They’re coming down – Coventry - for a wedding next month. We could arrange something then.”

Karen looks genuinely surprised - and delighted. “Oh, sweetheart, that’s wonderful. How many are there?”

“Mum…” Liam looks pained.

“No, it’s alright. If we can get all of your auntie Lou’s brood squeezed in here we can put up the navy and the air force combined.”

The three men share a look but say nothing, allow her to continue talking.

Zayn has no idea why his heart is swelling, threatening to burst out his chest.

 

**

“So you don’t really practice your religion these days, Zayn?”

He isn’t expecting this and for a moment is lost for an appropriate response. He doesn’t like talking about his faith to anyone and definitely not to those who aren’t religious at all.

He doesn’t really regard his faith as a casual topic of conversation, but then he’s the one who sort of raised the subject in the first place, he just hadn’t realised she’d been paying attention, enough to bring it up some hours later.

“Not in the way I used to. I still believe, though.”

She nods, her attention on the jumper she’s knitting. “And your mum – she practices?”

“Yes.”

“Is there anything we need to know for when they visit?”

“Karen, please don’t make a fuss. I mean don’t go to any trouble. You don’t even really need to put them up. They were going to head straight back, and if not, stay in a hotel.”

“And waste all that money? Your mum and dad and Safaa can say with us here. And your other sisters…” He can see her struggling with the names. “Can stay with you and Liam. It’s only going to be for a night or so, isn’t it? We’ve got a couple of bedrooms going spare… shame to waste money on a hotel stay.”

He doesn’t really know how to say that since he hasn’t told his family about Liam it’s going to be petty awkward for them to stay with the family of the man they don’t even realise is now part of their family.

His mum’s going to kill him, so the sooner he gets this over with the less likely it is that they killing will be terminal.

He looks at Liam.

Liam looks at him.

No help there then.

Liam has either assumed he’s told them or that he would likely leave it for about 5 years before feeling the need.

Either way, he’s sot of on his own.

Great.

 

 

 


End file.
